


Full Moon Fever

by Katiebug586



Category: Fillmore!
Genre: Another Halloween-type episode even though Halloween isn't for a couple months, Break Ins, Burglary, Halloween, Stakeout, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katiebug586/pseuds/Katiebug586
Summary: When the school is broken into and vandalized one late October night, Miss. Folsom puts the Safety Patrol on the case, leaving them to have an extensive stakeout to find whoever's responsible.But are they ready for the truth?And is the truth everything it seems?
Kudos: 5





	1. ACT ONE: The Hunt Begins

It was a rainy and windy night at X Middle School and not a sound could be heard, but that wouldn’t be the case for long. An open door in the building began to ominously creak, swaying left and right by an unknown force. Footsteps could be heard outside, faintly, but increasing in speed and volume.

For a small second, the noise stopped and even the door stopped crying and stood very, very still against the wall. Then, a huge _‘CRASH!’_ was heard and the footsteps became louder and louder as the attacker ran through the building, unseen, a deep growl emitting from within it.

Who knows what it’s plans were.

\------

That morning, the Principal, Vice-Principal, and Safety Patrol were seen standing in the auditorium, around what could only be described as a whirlwind of a mess. Chairs were ripped off the ground and thrown onto the floor, complete with very strange and large claw marks on a good lot of them.

“Now do you see why I called you here today?” Principal Folsom began, fixing her hair sightly as she chose her next words. “The entire school was trashed, lockers were destroyed, and an entire set of Cafeteria food was demolished, all in a single night!”

“Is that why the school was closed?” O’Farrell asked, an unusually sleepy strain to his voice.

“What do you think?! Use your brain, if you even have one, that is!” She snapped, before glaring at the rest of the Patrollers when they began to laugh at her insult. “This is a respectable school, not a Southern pigstye!”

“I’ll be completely honest, Southern schools are just as respectable as any other school.”

“Then why don’t you go and transfer to one, Fillmore? I bet your old buddy, Wayne, would _love_ to have you back!”

Fillmore resisted the urge to eye roll, but that didn’t stop him from saying something. “As much as I would _love_ to be back with Wayne again, X is _my_ school, my true place. So, tell us what we need to do. Clean up duty?”

“As much as I would love to have each and every one of you pick up a broom and start sweeping, there are much more important matters at hand. Which is finding out who did this!”

“Wait just a minute, Miss. Folsom,” Vallejo began, holding up his hand. “As much as my team and I just _love_ solving these cases, aren’t actual burglaries more into police jurisdiction?”

“Yes, because I _so_ am going to have leftover money, after I get everything repaired, to spend on a private investigator when I have people who’ll do it for free. Isn’t that called being part of the Safety Patrol?”

“I get what you’re saying, but It’s probably nothing more than some lousy raccoons that…” Vallejo’s words died off as Folsom grabbed the bridge of her nose, inhaling sharply. 

“Listen, Junior Commissioner, I don’t care if it’s a raccoon or the stinking McDonalds Burglar, you and your little friends _will_ find whoever it is breaking into my school or so help me, I will take away your patrol, your badge, and any scrap of dignity you may have faster than you can fill out a fast food joint application, which Raycliff here has already taken the liberty of doing for you.” Behind her, the vice-principal was scribbling something down on his clipboard. “Any questions?”

A ghastly silence filled the trashed auditorium before O’Farrell rubbed his eyes tiredly and spoke up. “Actually, Miss. Folsom, they call him the ‘Hamburglar’. Pretty cool wordplay, right?”

She said nothing and turned away and began to walk down the aisle, Raycliff following her. Before she could reach the door, she turned around, looking at Vallejo with an ice-cold glare that could send chills down anyone’s spine. _“I expect results.”_

As soon as she was gone, the Junior Commissioner started pacing around the floor, panicking. “This is bad, this is _so_ bad. I’m done for! She’s gonna fire me and who’s going to take my place? O’Farrell, because of course they’d elect O’Farrell, that’s just how life works!”

He fell onto the ground, whining pathetically. Fillmore took this as his cue and walked over to Vallejo. “Relax, Chief. You won’t lose your position and even in the completely hypothetical scenario that you do, you can rest at ease knowing that we’d _never_ elect O’Farrell to take your place.”

They looked up, a small twinkle of hope in his eyes. “R-Really?”

“Honestly, I can’t promise a lot, but I can sure promise you that.”

Vallejo got up and shook himself off, regaining his composure nigh instantaneously. “Thanks. Now, next problem, how are we even going to catch this person?! Or raccoon, if my theory is correct.”

“It’s not,” Ingrid stated, bluntly, looking around at the damage around them. “While the felon is definitely not human in nature, judging by the size of the claw marks, it’d have to be an animal bigger than a raccoon, much bigger. We might be looking at a bear break-in.”

“Either that or someone likes Wolverine a little _too_ much,” Fillmore commented, inspecting the gashes on one of the seat cushions, before looking at Tehama. “What about you? Did you find anything on last night’s footage?”

She nodded, leaning down and grabbing a piece of paper and handed it over to Fillmore. “Most of the footage was _really_ low-quality, but I did manage to print a picture of this.”

The picture on the paper, showing one of the school’s hallways, was really grainy and pixelated, but there was an unmistakable humanoid-like figure smack dab in the middle of the corridor. While he couldn’t make out who it was, Fillmore could see that the perpetrator had bigger than average proportions and was wearing what looked like a mask, only showing their sharp blue eyes and teeth.

“So it _is_ a human,” He muttered, as everyone else gathered around him, trying to get a closer look at the photo. “A really _big_ human at that.”

“Is it just me, or does that look more like a werewolf?!” O’Farrell’s drowsiness was beginning to wear off and he was beginning to become rather frightened.

But as stupid as the photographer’s statement seemed to be, the more Fillmore looked at it, the closer the mysterious figure seemed to resemble a werewolf. Its hands seemed to have deadly dagger-like claws, perfect for shredding up fabric, it’s teeth that it bared seemed less human-like and more animalistic, and the mask looked more like fur _and not_ a mask.

“It’s obviously somebody in a werewolf costume,” Ingrid spoke up, drawing the other patrollers’ attention towards her.

“You think so?” Fillmore eyed her. “I mean, when you put it like that, it makes sense. Why not destroy the school with just a mask on, when you can pretend to be a werewolf and cause mass hysteria and panic for everyone around you? But it didn’t work, did it? They might’ve caused quite a lot of damage, but nobody’s freaking out, are they? They’re planning to strike again, I can feel it.”

His partner agreed. “He’s right, this doesn’t feel like a one and done thing. They’ll keep attacking until they either get the result they want or we stop them. So, Fillmore, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Fillmore nodded. “Anyone up for a good old-fashioned stakeout?”

Later that same day, Fillmore was finishing setting up a tent in the middle of one of the many hallways in the school when Ingrid walked up to him. 

“Need any help? She asked, watching him with a bemused look, one that many people, students and staff alike, had known her for.

“I think I’m good,” He responded, before fastening one final knot. “There.”

Ingrid nodded before sitting on the ground beside him as a strange, but comforting silence filled the air around them. For only a minute, she let her thoughts wander and she began to wonder how the others were doing and if they needed any help, but then, wait-

“Wasn’t O’Farrell with you?” She looked around, trying to spot the orange-haired photographer. “Don’t tell me we’ve already lost him.”

“Relax,” Fillmore said with a small chuckle before turning back towards the tent. “He’s in there, though I wouldn’t disturb him if I were you.”

Ingrid couldn’t help but cock her head before she pushed past Fillmore and opened the tent up. As stronghearted and determined as she was, she couldn’t help but feel her heart melt slightly at the sight of O’Farrell asleep on the floor, unconsciously clutching his camera as if he was defending it with his dear life.

“Cute, isn’t it?” She heard her partner say, now noticing that he was right next to her, watching the rather adorable sight as well.

She nodded trying to think of what to say. Something bothered her about all this, but she didn’t exactly know how to put it in words to her best friend. “Sure… I guess. Can I talk to you real quick?”

They stepped back, trying not to awaken O’Farrell, while also giving Ingrid enough space to talk. “Alright, shoot.’

She looked back at the tent, rather unsure of where to start. “It’s about O’Farrell. Don’t you think this is rather unusual for him? He’s been acting really tired lately, you think something’s wrong?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about him,” Fillmore mused, looking back over at O’Farrell, still sound asleep. “Everyone has their days, Ingrid. I’m sure he’ll feel better after taking a good nap or two.’

Ingrid couldn’t help but still feel slightly uneased when she glanced at the photographer’s lightly snoring form, but, she would simply have to trust Fillmore on this one. “Well, if that’s all you think it is, then I suppose you’re probably right.”

“Probably?” Fillmore asked, watching his partner smirk ever so slightly, causing him to grunt rather discontentedly. “I _know_ I’m right.”

“Sure, Fillmore, sure.”

Behind them, O’Farrell twitched slightly, as if beginning to wake up, but he simply shuffled around, falling into perhaps an even _deeper_ sleep. But then he yawned, showing his teeth, which looked way sharper and dangerous than usual, though Fillmore and Ingrid were completely oblivious to this change.


	2. ACT TWO: The Lesser Of Two Evils

The rest of the passed by rather quickly and pretty soon it was night and prime stakeout time. Moonlight glittered from the classroom windows, illuminating the darkened hallways with a spectral and somewhat creepy glow.

Fillmore and Ingrid stayed outside the tent, watching and waiting for any signs of movement, even though there currently was none.

“I’m starting to think this _was_ just a one and done kind of thing,” The boy muttered, messing around with the flashlight in his hands. “Like some kind of set up for us to bug out about just because they’d thought it’d be funny.”

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t hurt just to make sure.”

“It’s hurting my sleep schedule.”

Ingrid cracked a small smile before getting up and dusting herself off. “Whatever the case may be, I need to use the restroom. Cover for me?”

“I can do you one better,” Her partner said, getting up as well before offering his hand to her. “Care for an escort, Miss. Third?”

She looked at his open hand, wondering whether or not to accept his help. “Thanks, but who’ll keep a lookout while we’re gone?”

Fillmore chucked slightly, before pointing towards the tent. “Don’t worry about it, Danny’s got us covered. He might be catching some z’s right now, but the second something happens, he’ll hear it.”

Despite Ingrid’s lasting wariness, mixed in with slight exhaustion from being up so late, he did have a point. While O’Farrell made a lot of mistakes and mess-ups, he wasn’t totally helpless, he could still fight or at the very least grab somebody’s attention with his high-pitched screaming.

“Fine, you win.”

As they made their way down the hall, the peace and quiet rather comforting to them, they used the pale illuminance emitted from the flashlight to help show them the way through the dark and damp walkways of X Middle School.

“You scared of the dark?” Fillmore asked his partner, seeing her get closer and closer to him the further they went. It wasn’t like he minded and even he liked having personal space, when it was Ingrid, it was just, different.

“Over your dead body, Fillmore,” She taunted, stepping back a bit when she realized how close she was to him. “It’s not like we’ve never done a stakeout before.”

“True,” Like it or not, late or even all-night stakeouts weren’t unusual or uncommon when you worked with the Safety Patrol. Despite the agonizing toll it could take on one, especially considering the ‘hangover’ you’d get after, it was a give and take scenario. Don’t get to go to class as much as everybody else, destroy your body ever so slowly by staying up for more than 24-hours every one or two weeks, It was practically a rite of passage for every new recruit they got. “So what’s got you so amped up, then?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, it’s more of a gut feeling than anything. I just feel like something’s about to happen. _Something bad.”_

“Like what?”

“Like-” A loud _‘CRASH’_ down the hallway interrupted Ingrid and both patrollers looked towards where the noise came from, though they couldn’t see anything in such darkness.

“Looks like we got action,” Fillmore looked towards his partner, determination and fire in both of their eyes. “You ready?”

She nodded and the two took off down the hallway, not even bothering to using the flashlight to light their path. Fillmore loved running, it made him feel free, alive, stronger, and he felt his best friend and partner-not-in-crime felt the same way. Running at something felt much, _much_ better than running _away_ from something.

However, his joyrun was soon to come to an end when he noticed two eyes staring at him from the darkness. He halted, trying to not trip over himself and put his arm over Ingrid, narrowing his eyes and brows. “Stop. Something’s there.”

The look on her face said that she saw it too and for the moment, while Fillmore fumbled for the flashlight he had put in his pant-pocket, it was a very unsettling standoff between the three. The being, if it was that and not just a trick of the eyes, was _much_ bigger than they had expected, judging by where the eyes were on its head. Either that or it was standing on something, trying to make itself bigger.

The boy finally got a steady grip on the flashlight and pointed it at the strange thing, preparing to turn it on. “Safety Patrol, you’re under arrest for breaking and-’

_“...Entering…”_ His words were almost immediately lost when the light flickered on, showing what The tent had been utterly smashed to the ground and the being behind it, looming over it, certainly _wasn’t_ _human_.

It didn’t even look like any kind of animal either one of them had ever seen before and looked more like a cross between a wolf and a man or more commonly known as a-

“Werewolf!” Fillmore growled, before realizing something else that was just as dire. “O’Farrell was in that tent! What did you do to O’Farrell?!”

The werewolf didn’t say anything and just stared at the two of them, wondering what to make out of this situation, probably debating if it wanted to eat them right now or not.

“Fillmore, wait,” Ingrid regained her composure and pointed at the beast. “Look.”

He squinted at it, trying to get a better view. Thick red-orange fur covered the lycanthrope, blue eyes piercing into Fillmore’s skull. Now that he was looking more closely at it, he could see the iconic old-school camera dangling around the beast’s neck, like how O’Farrell would wear it.

_“Fillmore, I think that’s O’Farrell.”_

He didn’t want to believe his partner, but it was all coming together, the fur color, the eyes, and the polaroid all stood out so blatantly to him, poor Fillmore just couldn’t believe it. Was this why O’Farrell was so tired all of the time lately because he was a werewolf during the night? Was _he_ responsible for the break-in?

The Were-O’Farrell got tired of being stared at and let out an unearthly howl before charging away from the two and down into the hall.

“Snap! He’s gone, what do we do? How do we even cure werewolves?!”

“Hmm, crackers, I got it!” Fillmore had to admit that Ingrid was really good at staying calm under high-pressure situations, even if said situation involved one of your friends turning into a werewolf before your very eyes. “I remember reading in a book that silver was used to cure lycanthropy, perhaps…’

“It’s better than nothing, you check the metal shop and I’ll try to find O’Farrell and warn the others.”

Ingrid nodded, ducking down into one of the corridors towards the metal shop. Meanwhile, Fillmore grabbed the walkie-talkie off his jean and turned it on. “Vallejo, we got a situation!”

“What is it, Fillmore?”

“What’s the correct radio code for the photographer just got turned into a giant werewolf and is on the loose?”

“What?!” Vallejo’s voice was strained and tired, obviously not in the mood for Fillmore’s shenanigans. “You better not be trying to confuse me again. Now, what exactly is the problem? Anza and Tehama reported hearing something a few minutes ago and I have a bad feeling that _you’re_ responsible.”

“I’m not! I don’t know how to put this without sounding crazy, but O’Farrell turned into a werewolf and is headed who knows where!”

“Hilarious, absolutely hilarious. Call me when you have some _real_ information.”

Before Fillmore could object, he heard the walkie-talkie turn off with a click and simply sighed. It looked like he would have to solo this mission. But where was O’Farrell, was he going towards the others, with them thinking it was merely a practical joke? Would Ingrid manage to find some silver, would it even work?

Before he could question his situation any further, he heard a distant, but rather loud, noise coming from the Cafeteria. Spinning around, he took off in that direction, fully prepared to apprehend the werewolf, even if it was his friend.

Friends don’t let other friends be werewolves.

Slamming open the Cafeteria doors and turning on the lights, Fillmore, shielding his eyes at first from the sudden brightness, spotted the werewolf in the dim fluorescent light, gorging on leftover lasagna and other uneaten Cafeteria foods. The noise caused the human-turned-lycanthrope to look up and glare straight at him, wondering why the boy was interrupting it’s three-course-meal.

It’s fierce and steel-like gaze made Fillmore feel rather intimidated, which was very uncool for a guy like him. Trying to control his instincts, which were telling him to bolt and flee the scene, he approached the beast, trying to keep steady. “H-Hey… b-buddy.”

It grunted and began to slowly move towards Fillmore, albeit ungraceful and awkward. The canid was just as clumsy as it was when it was O’Farrell, managing to trip over an empty aluminum foil pan, landing on its stomach.

Resisting a chuckle, Fillmore walked over to his monstrous friend, still recovering from their unfortunate fall. “You okay?”

It glared at him but made no move to get up, let alone attack, which was odd. It didn’t seem to remember him or the other patrollers, but maybe it did, in some subconscious way, preventing the were-boy from going all out.

It let out a small groan as it pulled itself upright, not taking its eyes off of Fillmore the entire time, before sniffing the patroller with its giant snout, which was just a little _too_ close for the boy’s comfort.

It got right up to his face, scowling at the boy with its icy-blue eyes, before huffing and walking away, obviously not interested in Fillmore or the idea of eating him.

“Hey, O’Farrell, listen, man, I hate to have to do this, but I gotta bring you in,” He pulled out some handcuffs, the glint from the steel catching the beast’s attention from the corner of its eye, causing it to turn back around. It’s steely look once again caught Fillmore off guard, Danny could be _really_ scary when he gets serious _and_ turned into a werewolf, making him stutter slightly as he tried to get the words out. “B-Because you _are_ causing a disturbance.”

As the two had a staredown, the silence between man and beast became overwhelming, but thankfully, it wouldn’t be too long before it was broken.

“Fillmore, Third! What the _heck_ is going on in here?!” Vallejo demanded, throwing open the Cafeteria doors, not even bothering to notice the chaos around him. “First I get a call from you telling me that O’Farrell’s a werewolf or something and now-”

The Junior Commissioner finally noticed the lumbering monster and jumped up in fright, defensively pulling out a taser. “What is _THAT?!_ Whatever it is, tell it that it better stay back, because I have a taser and I’m not afraid to use it!”

“For starters, _That_ is O’Farrell,” Fillmore began with a deep sigh, hoping Vallejo would believe him now. “Secondly, you have a taser?”

“All Junior Commissioners get one, but that’s beyond the point, the point being that you’re telling me _that thing_ is O’Farrell?!”

“That’s what I said, dawg. I tried telling you earlier, but _someone_ didn’t believe me,”

Vallejo became rather dumbfounded realizing what the boy meant and groaned. “Okay, okay, I apologize for being so hasty, but how was I to know that you were actually telling the truth and not pulling my leg? Matters aside, where’s your partner?”

“Ingrid? Oh, she’s-”

“Right here.” Ingrid’s voice was heard and Vallejo turned to see her standing there, although empty-handed.

“There you are! Did you find any-”

“No dice, unfortunately,” She interrupted Fillmore, before noticing what was in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Don’t play dumb with me right now, Ingrid. You _know_ these are…” The boy began, but then realized what she was talking about. “Disco! Hey, O’Farrell, catch!”

The wolf-boy turned just in time to see Fillmore flinging the handcuffs at its paws. Before it could step out of the way or even react, for that matter, the piece of metal snapped hard against its massive and furry forearms, not only holding them in place but also causing an adverse reaction.

It howled, a mix of pain and fury, trying to rid itself of the binds, to no avail. Slowly, but surely, the werewolf began to shrink, changing shape into something smaller and less fear-inducing. It began to look less and less like a monstrous beast of eldritch horror and more like-

“Danny?” Fillmore approached the figure, which was now _very_ confused and trying to get a grip on their bearings. O’Farrell _did_ look a lot more like himself now, but he still had a rather beastly appearance to him. His legs still looked like that of a wolf’s and he still sprouted a giant and bushy tail. Thankfully, almost everything up from his pelvis looked like his old-self, save for canid-like ears.

“What happened?” They muttered, their smaller hands managing to slip the handcuffs off, and began to rub their head. Thank goodness O’Farrell wasn’t feral, pun intended, anymore. Though it’d be a lot easier to control a primal O’Farrell in this state than an O’Farrell in a _full_ werewolf state.

“Uh, O’Farrell…” Fillmore wasn’t too sure on how to approach the topic of ‘You were turned into a werewolf’ to his friend and looking at his other friends, he figured they didn’t know how to, either.

“What are these?” It looked like the photographer finally found his new ears, pulling them with curiosity, before looking down at his backside. “What is THIS?!”

“People, can we _please_ stop with the screaming?” Vallejo asked, rubbing his ears. “In fact, can we please stop making loud and unnecessary noises? I don’t know how much more my ears can take!”

“Okay, listen,” It looked like it was up to Fillmore to break the news. “As insane as this may seem, you kinda turned into a werewolf and went a bit crazy around the school. Thankfully, Ingrid had a solution, though it looks like it didn’t work all the way.”

By this point, O’Farell was gripping his tail tightly to his chest, shaking slightly. “So you mean I’ll just be some mutant wolfman forever?!”

“Uh…”

Before Fillmore could reply, his partner interrupted him to share her own insightful thoughts on the situation. “It might take a while to fully reverse, so I’d give it until sunrise until we’ll be able to _really_ know. Until then, I hope you don’t mind being well, _this.”_

O’Farrell thought for a few moments before dropping the tail and shrugging. “Eh, it doesn’t really matter. I was just worried that I’d have to hide my tail in my underwear like what Squirrell Girl does.”

Everyone looked at him for a moment before Vallejo spoke up once more. “Alright, now that we got the werewolf business out of the way, can we discuss what exactly we’re going to do with O’Farrell? Assuming that he _is_ the werewolf that attacked the school the other day, which is more likely than not, he still has to pay the price.”

“Hold on there, Vallejo,” Ingrid stated, before pulling out the piece of paper from earlier. “This is the werewolf from the other day and assuming that it even _is_ a werewolf, doesn’t it look different from O’Farrell?”

The others got closer to her, inspecting the photo and O’Farrell. While the werewolf in the photo _did_ resemble the photographer slightly, they also differed in many ways as well. The being in the photo looked taller, more chubby, and seemed to have rougher fur. The colors also didn’t seem the same but given the black-and-white scale of the CCTV, it was hard to tell.

“So you’re telling us there’s _two_ werewolves?” Before anyone could reply to Fillmore, a noise was heard in the distance, followed by the walkie talkies springing to life.

“Something’s wrong!” Tehama’s voice could be heard, panicked, and full of anxiety. “I’m pretty sure Anza’s hurt, just get down here-”

Before she could say anything else, her communication was cut and all that came through was a bunch of loud static. Fillmore looked up at the others, determination on his face. “Let’s roll.”

The four made their way to where Tehama and Anza were positioned at and the further they went, the colder it seemed to get, as if fresh and freezing night air was pouring into the building. By the time they made it to the end of the _other_ hallway, they were shivering and freezing, but it wasn’t hard to find out why.

At the end of the corridor, there was a window that was simply just smashed into, allowing the freezing air to come into the building, but there was no sign of Tehama or Anza.

“D-Dawg, where are they?” Fillmore stuttered, the cold obviously getting to him. Looking around, he spotted Tehama out of the corner of his eye, who was helping a limping Anza. “Oh, there you are. How’s Anza, is he okay?”

“Do I _look_ okay, Fillmore?” The boy snapped, standing upright and putting weight on his hurt leg. He immediately winced and leaned further on Tehama. “Can you guys _please_ let me sit down?”

“Not until we get out of here,” There was a deep tone of seriousness in Fillmore’s voice. “We’ll all catch our death if we stay here any longer. Now, what exactly happened?”

“We could ask you the same thing,” Tehama muttered, looking at O’Farrell with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “Either way, we were by the window when something suddenly charged in and broke it. Except, it didn’t look like anything we’ve seen, it looked like-”

“A werewolf.”

“Crackers!” Ingrid turned towards her partner. “Fillmore, what if that’s the werewolf that attacked the other night and O’Farrell’s innocent?”

“He was at the wrong place at the wrong time,” He glanced back towards Tehama. “So how did he hurt his leg then? Trying to save you while fighting the were-beast one-on-one?"

"He tripped and fell." Came her simple reply, which caused Anza to groan in embarrassment.

"Oh. Anyways, I need you to get Anza somewhere safe while we find out what’s going on, okay? We don't need _both_ of you getting hurt."

She nodded, holding her partner tighter. “Come on, you big oaf, you’re so heavy!”

“Maybe if you know how to properly carry me, this wouldn’t be a problem!”

With the oblivious-to-being-in-love-lovebirds dealt with, Fillmore turned towards the others and could tell that they were also ready to solve this case once and for all.

“It’s showtime.” He smirked.


	3. ACT THREE: Alpha Vs Omega

Giant paw steps could be heard as a shaggy man-like beast made its way across the school. Where was it going? Not even it knew, but it didn’t care. All it wanted to do was _destroy._ Dark and piercing eyes looking around the dark hallway, its night vision spotted a big double-door at the end of the corridor. 

While its brain couldn’t comprehend much, it had a gut feeling that something big and _valuable_ was behind those doors, something it could run in and smash. It smirked, showing off sharp and dangerous teeth before taking off towards it.

It slammed one of the doors open with such ferocity that it barely held itself together without breaking off. Stepping inside, the werewolf’s face turned to one of confusion, where was it? The large body of water in the center and weird objects around the walls made its brain say ‘pool’, but it didn’t know what that meant.

Before it could ignore the weird thoughts in its head and continue its rampage, a small shadow crept up upon the wall, making it turn around.

_“Game over._ ”

The shadow in question was none other than Fillmore, joined by the other safety patrollers, minus Anza and Tehama. The beast didn’t remember them all that well, but the bright orange sash seemed familiar, too familiar.

It snarled, trying to comprehend its own conflicted thoughts. Usually, it would attack whatever was in front of it without question, but something was stopping it from doing just that. So instead, the brute monster started backing up, hissing all the way.

“Listen, dawg. You’re confused and afraid, I got that, but it’s gonna be okay,” Fillmore began to slowly approach the beast, holding the metal handcuffs. “Just let me do what I need to do and-”

The lycanthrope didn’t bother trying to listen to the boy, instead rearing up and smacking the metal cuffs out of Fillmore’s hands. It slid from him all the way into the murky depths of the pool. “Hey!”

“On it!” Ingrid jumped into the pool before anyone could say anything else and the werewolf looked back at Fillmore, knowing that for the time being, the boy was completely defenseless. The latter began to try to step away, though the werewolf began to close in on him.

O’Farrell could feel his tail holding itself tightly against his leg and even though it was obvious that he was scared, he knew he had to do something, but what? Looking around, he noticed a ledge made of gym mats and on top of those mats, the answer was held. Not even bothering to ask what they were doing in the pool area and not the gym, O’Farrell snuck his way over to them. Vallejo looked like he was about to ask O’Farrell what he was doing, but he must’ve seen where the boy was going and put two and two together.

Meanwhile, Fillmore was basically trying to beg for his life at this point, holding out his arms in practical surrender. “I know… I know you’re mad, but it doesn’t have to end like this man.”

The wolf let out a low growl in response, probably rejecting what the boy was trying to say and started to really zone in on him. Fillmore knew he was probably dead at this point, but he refused to lower his stance or try to run away, preferring to face the monster in an awkward standoff. It was all or nothing.

Thankfully, he would be saved from being eaten by the unlikeliest of heroes.

“Hey,” A voice called out from the gym mats, causing both Fillmore and the werewolf to look up. There, in the glare of the approaching sunlight, stood O’Farrell, holding a giant pool mat. “Eat this, you meanie!”

He jumped off and stuck the werewolf in the mat’s opening, constricting and restaining it like how a tube would. It howled in fury, trying to walk or even move around. It fell onto the ground, continuing to try to squirm out to no avail.

“I don’t know what they put in those, but it must be _pretty dang indestructible,”_ Fillmore chuckled seeing its plight. Ingrid joined them and while she was soaking wet, at least she was holding onto the handcuffs, passing them off to Fillmore without a word. “Thanks.”

However, before he could put the handcuffs on the beast and erase the illusion of lycanthropy, Folsom slammed open the doors, a serious and determined look on her face like always. “Vallejo! I don’t care if it’s only five in the morning, you better have my-”

She stopped talking seeing the sight in front of her. For starters, the soaking Ingrid Third, the wolf-like Danny O’Farrel, and the ravenous raging werewolf in front of her. 

Vallejo saw her shocked look and spoke up. “Well, Miss. Folsom, you said you wanted results, right? Well, here are the results that you so _politely_ asked for. We have the culprit right here, but it’s not what you-

She shook her head, regaining her composure. “I told you before, Junior Commissioner. I don’t care _who_ or _what_ it is, I just want it out of my school!’

Before he could say anything else she turned around and left, clearly not wanting to deal with whatever was going on. Sighing, he turned around and looked back at Fillmore. “Ready?”

The boy nodded and snapped the handcuffs around the big bad wolf’s snout. It let out another feral howl as it tried to move in any attempt to get the cuffs out, but once again the mat limited its movement. Like O’Farrell, it slowly morphed into a more humanoid-shape, but not someone they were expecting.

“Raycliff?” Fillmore asked, rather shocked at this sudden revelation. 

It was indeed Raycliff, though unlike O’Farrell, he looked completely like his old self. Rather confused, the vice-principal managed to squirm his way out of the tubing, rubbing his head. “What happened, where am I?”

“The school, some crazy stuff happened, but what matters the most is that you’re fine now.” Fillmore helped the man up. Vallejo and Ingrid showed up, taking the still confused man from him and helping them out of the pool area.

“All’s well that ends well, I suppose.”

“Not all’s well that ends well, Fillmore!” O’Farrell complained, pouting slightly. “Why did Mr. Raycliff get to come back normal but I still look like a hybrid freak?!”

“I wouldn’t call you a hybrid freak.”

“Huh?”

“Look.” Fillmore said, pointing.

O’Farrell turned around and saw that his tail was gone and his legs were finally back to his human and non-wolf-like legs. Feeling his head, he felt his regular human ears instead of the two giant wolf ones he had five minutes ago, causing him to let out a huge sigh of relief. “Well, I guess you’re right, all’s well that ends well.”

Fillmore let out a small smile.

Some weeks later, everything was finally back to normal. After the damages were fixed up and the ‘mysterious wolf’ stopped breaking in, the school was reopened and the Safety Patrol got their jobs back. But not _everything_ was all said and done just yet, a certain boy had to talk to a certain someone about a certain something.

He spotted his target at the desk and walked up to them. “Hey, Fillmore, can I… uh… talk to you about something?”

“O’Farrell, If it’s another question about why we can’t walk on the sun, then _I’m busy,_ go ask Ingrid or something.”

O’Farrell shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that, though I still ponder it. I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all.”

“Thank you? For what?” Fillmore said, cocking his head. What could O’Farrell of all people want to thank _him_ for?

“You know, for defending me, both you and Ingrid. Back when Vallejo thought that _I_ caused the damage and was ready to throw me in, you guys stood up for me and argued that simply _being_ a werewolf wasn’t enough proof. You guys could’ve just agreed with him, but you didn’t. I mean, sure, when the… other… werewolf came in, it would’ve still disproven the theory, but it means a lot to me, you know?”

“Hey man,” Fillmore began, trying to find the right words for this sudden approaching of gratitude. “Looking out for other people is what we do, especially for each other. You might annoy us all to death sometimes, but you’re still a part of this team and I wouldn’t let you take the heat like that.”

“Thanks, Fillmore.” With that, the photographer walked away, a goofy but adorable smile on his face.

“Anytime.”


End file.
